To Love
by CharmingNotDarling
Summary: But your love is not her greatest fear. It's just the only one she cannot seem to keep from resurrecting. -A little episode tag for The Dentist in the Ditch-


**Disclaimer: Disclaimed **

A little episode tag for The Dentist in the Ditch. This takes place during and after the last scene.

To Love

_The truth is always the bottom line but, it's drawn with the pen in the hand of perception_

"I'd like to make a toast." Her voice is confident, and sure, it's filled with the knowledge that her words will make a difference in the lives of the people who make a difference in yours.

"What is this?" Jared asks a rainbow of surprise coloring his voice, you both know how their last meeting in this exact location ended and he's probably just a little leery of whatever's about to come out of her mouth.

Because truth be told, you've both experienced what she's capable of.

"It's her new thing," Your confidence helps rebuild his trust in her and it muddies the waters so his fears are a little less transparent.

"She likes doing it" You tell him, by way of a subtle explanation, but she must not like the tone you've chosen because she turns to you with a look that screams within the surprise that lies across the table. "She's really good at doing it though. Maybe we should get some champagne?" You've got a knack for distracting her so you give that a shot, anything to keep her mind focused on her original goal.

"Jared is an alcoholic Booth." So much for that.

Her voice carries the tone of your sixth grade English teacher; droning and slow, each syllable pronounced with careful diction. As if she needs to remind you, as if he doesn't share your blood.

"No secrets. . . " Jared says as he shakes his head, a smile wide across his face, as his eyes meet Padme's and you realize it wasn't too long ago that he wouldn't see the irony in the situation and you thank God he's grown enough to be able to laugh at himself.

So you turn back to her and surrender your complete attention because when she speaks, she's always held you captive, and this moment is no different. As far as you're concerned her voice is the axis on which your world turns, and she sets the sun blazing in the middle of your midnight sky with the words she's chosen.

"When Booth and I first met I didn't believe that such a thing as loved existed. I maintained that it was simply brain chemistry. But perhaps Booth is correct, perhaps loves comes first and then creates the reaction. I have no tangible proof but I'm willing to accept Booths premise."

"To love." You say with your heart in your throat because the probability of this day ever actually taking place is close to that of time standing still.

"To love."

"To love."

"To love." She says and holds your gaze a moment longer than she does the others. You lean into her slightly and whisper your thanks and reassurance in her ear.

"Well done Bones. Well done."

She does not need your words of praise or your encouragement. She knows she's done a wonderful job. But there's something amiss in her eyes tonight, a shadow lurking somewhere behind the bright blue windows which have never kept a secret from you before. It's nothing anyone else would ever see, because honestly no one looks as deep as you do. And where no one would see more than a speech made by a logic driven realist given to two people about to share pending nuptials, you see a surrender and perchance a need to make wrongs right.

You also know you each use a different filter when sifting through the ways of the world, so the chance does exist that you're filling empty space with the dreams that usually fill your darkest hours.

Because she knows only black and white, gray, in its chameleon skin has no foundation for proof, its varying shades always changing, and therefore she will not trust it. But that was before. Before she willingly admitted your views on love might hold water.

If all it takes is tangible proof then the time has come for her to accept more than just your premise.

She's just made a declaration of trust in your beliefs, and although you know this is a monumental step, leaps and bounds really, but in reality it's merely inches in the ways of the world. There's also the slightest of chances she's taken a different page from your book and she's learned to lie. The probability of this is even slimmer than admittance to loves existence, because you know she finds no justice in even the whitest of lies. But your tender heart needs to be cautious, her words may always be truthful but perception is another force of which she has no understanding. She's never been one to soften the blow the truth can deliver, not even for you. And the lack of the gesture is all the proof you need to know she has no understanding of how painful the bottom line can be.

Like black and white, it's true or false, and maybe holds the endless shades the blending of these colors creates.

And still your happiness is a reflection of her well being, so your thoughts return again to the shadows lurking behind her eyes. They're an unusual sight, and tonight their darkness is enough to eclipse the moon. She does an amazing job of checking her emotions, a trait one can attest to the pile of skeletons growing in numbers in her closet, her own personal limbo if you will. It would be extremely comical if it weren't so true. It's her reaction to anything she doesn't understand, simply push it back into the furthest corners of her mind until it becomes a memory.

She calls it compartmentalizing, Sweets calls it coping, and you call it hiding.

Once again perception is a powerful being.

The comfortable chatter of the evening continues until it reaches its own end. The conversation drifts to a friendly halt, everyone ready to put the day to rest. You say your good nights to your brother and soon to be sister, to the bar tender and bar back you know by face and reputation alone, and then follow the crowd out into the night.

The tender spring air still carries a wintery bite and it has you all ducking into your jackets as it quickly slaps you on your way out the door in a not so gentle reminder of how often the weather pays no mind to seasons. She's a half step behind you, letting you catch the brunt of the wind, and you feel her slender fingers as they find purchase along the inside of your elbow. It takes an extra dose of self control to keep from reaching into the crook of your arm and taking hold of the fluid limbs. It's an act that had you followed through, would have felt completely right.

That is until she'd ask what the hell was wrong with you.

She stands beside you as you watch Jared and Padme walk off down the street, his arm thrown over her shoulders as she ducks in under his elbow hoping their combined body heat will help fight the windy chill. Usually you'd offer to grab her a cab, but that's only after you offer to drive her home yourself, but tonight neither of you seems to be in any hurry. She makes sure she has a firm hold on your arm and turns you both into the wind.

"Let's walk for a bit." She's got her head turned up to the sky, the crisp air burning pink into her cheeks. She sets the pace and it's slow and steady. It's unusual for her, she's always going somewhere, a place with a purpose, a mission with a need. But now, it's just the two of you and you walk as if you have nowhere to be.

It makes you think a moment; this is an aspect of the relationship you share that never gets the chance to breath. You're together always. There are things you share that relationships built on decades never will. And there's always energy behind your daily lives. Even when you share a drink, or a meal, there's momentum, it's usually slowing at that point, coming to the almost halt your lives are built on, but it's never as still as this.

There's nothing of importance waiting for you at the end of this walk, it's the walk itself that holds what's most important.

The wind throws another back hand across both your faces and it's hard to believe there were robins outside the Jeffersonian this morning when you walked across the lawn. There isn't a creature in sight now, or a person for that matter. There is however a thin webbing of ice along the corners of the shallow puddles that line the cobblestone streets.

So you take a deep breath of the icy spring air and let the bite in your lungs help burn this moment into your memory. You watch her face and the colors playing across it in the changing shades of moon glow and industrial light. You also feel the impatience of the words she needs to speak pressing against your quickly cooling skin. If there's one skill you've honed over your years together it's that of submission, because she will only move as fast as she deems necessary. There's no middle ground, no compromising, she never gives in and always refuses to take.

Yet no matter how you try to pace yourself, you never seem to match her stride.

Waiting is what this moment calls for so it's lucky you do it so well. You know she has an inkling of what's brewing in your heart. There's no way she doesn't feel it. There are a few skeletons buried in the heap in her closet that closely resemble what's beneath your flesh and blood.

But your love is not her greatest fear. It's just the only one she cannot seem to keep from resurrecting.

Because she is afraid and you are brave, and you know it's the valiant front of yours she relies on so rarely that she's counting on in these coming moments.

Her pace slows as her insecurities hover near the apex of her throat. They're desperate to escape now, and you see in her eyes a look glazed in the shadows from before. Unknown to her, because what does she know of matters of the heart, there is no freedom from these feelings. No matter what she buries them beneath or how often she chastises them, they cling like frost before the morning thaw. And of course, in the event she actually takes a stand, proclaiming something only you should hear and she can know, those insecurities will become something else she's never been very good with:

self doubt.

"You must have an opinion on what I had to say before." She throws the words at your feet with amazing speed and no finesse. It's her trademark and everything about you should be prepared for her coping methods but you've been blinded by, well, everything this evening has progressed to so far. So you bring the both of you to a complete stop. Your feet halt a moment sooner than her own and she turns into you, her hand still tucked under your arm, her refusal to let go only bringing you closer together.

You spend what feels like an eternity watching her eyes. They dart from side to side until the blue and white and black become a blur of icy rapids. You've checked the reactions which come naturally to you, and that's to make it all disappear. The shadows, the ghosts, whatever it is; you always slay them like a white knight slays a dragon. So you guess now that you think about it, you're her greatest asset when it comes to taking her greatest fears out of sight.

The question of the hour is presented to you now; is this the moment to take a stand rather than bare your sword?

"Well?" She wants your reaction because she knows the laws of physics and they state her actions are worthy of one.

You smile because you know it's charming, and it's reassuring for you both, but you can't just let this moment pass without fully understanding what she's thinking.

"Did you mean it, trusting me even without the proof?" It's not exactly what you want to say, but it's what you've been able to come up with on the spur of the moment and with so many feelings clouding your judgment. She smiles at you, just the slightest lift in the corners of her mouth, and she leans in a half a step closer because to be honest, that's all the room she's got.

The hand that's not tucked under your elbow finds the buckle on the sleeve of your trench coat and she fidgets with the clasp. Her pale as snow hands work the mechanism continuously and, you realize she's nervous.

"You speak of God, and I don't understand why." Her voice is small when she begins.

"You speak of family bound by friendship rather than blood and although I know that you know there's no such thing I'm still moved by your intentions." As she finds her groove her voice takes flight, "You mention love like it's something to strive for, something one shouldn't live without and I constantly feel that I'm lacking without fully understanding why." Her eyes have found yours and they burn with a heat fired by truth.

She speaks with passion. She speaks of you.

"There are so many things you believe in that exist without proof. It took me a long time to accept that." She stops to take a breath or to ensure her statement is received in the proper light. You lift a hand to her face, your intentions purely innocent, and move a wayward curl aside. You long for something to say, but it would seem the only thing you're capable of right now is the subtle in and exhale that come naturally. So you remain a pillar of silence, keep your eyes locked on hers, your hand in her hair.

Your heart in your throat.

She wets her lips, a quick dart of pink tongue over a mouth gone the shade of ripe raspberries with cold. Without losing your gaze she reaches up blindly to take hold of the hand you've left tangled in the tips of her hair.

"You've taught me the difference between simply taking up space and filling a room. You've taught me there's more to justice than right and wrong. And you show me everyday what it is to live my life for someone other than myself." Even if you could find the words to express everything you're feeling you'd have to find your tongue first.

"So yes, I meant what I said, but I guess you could also say I left much more unsaid"

The end of the statement drifts off as if she might want it to be a question but isn't quite sure yet. There's a lie lurking behind her courage, it's the fear of failure and that prospect must leave a bitter taste in her mouth. Because it's a bite you're all too familiar with these days.

You're lost, there's no other way to describe it because you know there's no map to see you safely home. She's managed to invade your space and your sanity all at once and it's an assault you're unable to regenerate from. You're somewhere between God and her selflessness, and the pink of her tongue and rouge of her lips keep tripping you up as your mind tries to comment. She accepts your silence as rejection and slowly begins to untangle your limbs. The chill her absence invites slaps some much needed sense into you and you quickly pull her back. You gently tuck her back in under your arm, whether it's to keep her close or out of the wind you're unwilling to admit even to yourself, but it dawns on you, you're mirroring the gestures your brother and Padme shared only moments ago.

The scent of her hair wrapped up in the frost on the air sends your scenes into over drive and you catch your mind wondering if it's at all possible for her to taste as good as she smells. You turn into the wind for the second time tonight and let the scattering of leaves on pavement fill the silence. It sends the sweet smelling tendrils over her shoulders and out from under your nose.

This time when she places her fingers in the crook of your elbow, you do not hesitate to take her hand.

She doesn't resist or question you. She just rests her cheek against your shoulder.

You've managed to circle the city block. Your truck is parked just up the street, it looms on the edge of your vision in a puddle of light thrown out on to the cobblestones from the bar you've just left behind. It's a taunting reminder of how soon this evening will become a memory. And you can't let that happen without speaking your mind. It's just that it's still MIA.

"I gather you've had a lot on your mind Bones." You feel her smile against your shoulder. She's waiting for more and rightfully so, but this woman on your arm is a completely different creature, even from the woman in the bar only moments ago. When she's defiant an headstrong you know what you're dealing with but this pliant and vulnerable things she's got going on is too far out in left field. Even for you. You, who thought you'd seen everything when it came to this woman. You almost snort in disbelief at the thought; clearly you were delusional to think you'd seen all the facets of your Bones. You spend a few extra moments sifting through the wastelands of your mind, what brain cells you have left are paralyzed and over stimulated. A lesser man would have folded long ago, you both know that, and you're pretty sure the thought has crossed her mind at some point tonight. She becomes impatient waiting for you and you worry she's looking for a loophole.

When she speaks, it's into the collar of your coat. The fabric combined with the winds cause your ears to strain in order to hear her.

What you think you've heard can't possibly be what she said.

So you stop yet again, this time to search her face. You take her gently by the elbows, pulling her in tight and she smiles at you, her eyes have a knowing shine to them you've never seen before.

"Say it again."

She smiles and her gaze never waivers .

"Take me home and show me the way to my heart."

**A/N: As always a huge thank you to my beta StephanieW. Without her this (and every) story would never make it here. **


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